


The Flavour of Kisses [Willy Wonka x reader]

by plum_blossom



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Kisses, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plum_blossom/pseuds/plum_blossom
Summary: Let’s not go out. Let’s pass out underneath the night sky, high on chocolate and love.
Relationships: Willy Wonka/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 117





	The Flavour of Kisses [Willy Wonka x reader]

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a gender-neutral Wonkaxreader, so I did.

You swallowed the small piece of delicious grass and smiled.  
The green fields lay before you with their sweet, pink trees, plump pumpkins full of jelly and bushes on which twisted lollipops grew. In the middle of it, a hut stood — small and askew. Light was burning inside as the dark was setting in at this astonishing place. A few Oompa Loompas were still taking care of the sugary landscapes, but most had gone and apart from the chocolate waterfall rushing down into the brown river, everything was rather quiet. 

“It’s still as beautiful and amazing as when I first saw it,” you whispered, not wanting to interrupt the quiet atmosphere. 

“Yes... yes, it is,” Willy said in that dreamy tone of his with the smallest of smiles on his lips and an absent look in his eyes. And you liked it. The way he watched his life’s work (his and Charlie’s by now). And the way he spoke, softly with a tiny crack of insanity and mystery. After all this time, he still managed to be both - a person who was easily seen though by you and a total stranger. 

But let’s start when he was only the latter. 

It had been a Monday full of cool air and rays of spring sunlight.  
You were on your way to work - the new school that had opened in town. It has been strange: having to move so far away from your parents and sisters into an entirely different town, but you’d wanted it that way. After all, you didn’t want to be stuck in the same town for the rest of your life. And admittedly, the new place was kind of nice: The cobblestone streets, the brick houses... The trees lit up the monotone gray with their orange and red leaves and some of the people seemed quite nice, too. As far as you could tell, anyways. Because really, you weren’t a people’s person. Children? No problem! Really, you loved your job! But grownups? Eh.  
Either way, you’d grown to like the little apartment that you called your own. The windows gave sight to a factory. Its stone coloured chimneys were poking the sky. 

The tires screeched when you came to a halt in front of the school. It was a freshly renovated little building and the children were chattering excitedly.  
When you entered the classroom, your pupils were already awaiting you. And they weren’t alone. In front of them stood Mrs. Berg - headmistress to the school. A very uptight, put-together woman in suit with skirt.  
She gave you a brief smile. “Class,” she said loudly, seeking attention from the children. They looked up. “This is Mr./Miss L/N. He/She will be your new English teacher.”  
You waved at them. A few waved back. They were all in between 7 and 12 years old. It was a poor village with a poor school, they couldn’t afford so many classes. So here were children of different ages. You didn’t mind, seeing that your family wasn’t exactly the richest either. 

“Good Morning, Boys and Girl,” you said.  
“Good Morning Mr./Miss L/N!”, they chanted. 

“I wish you the best of luck,” the headmistress said and nodded at you. You nodded back. “Thank you Ma’am.” With that, she was gone. 

“Okey, let’s start. First, please tell me your names.”  
The children obliged, one often the other, stating their names. You took them down on a notepad.  
“Alright,” you said contentedly once they’d all finished. “I’d really like to get to know the lot of you better. So please, if you could all write a short essay on yourself. Tell me something about yourself and your family. What do you like doing? What’s your favourite subject? Do you have any siblings? Where and how do you live?” You started handing out empty pages and pens to those who didn’t have any (Yes, the town was that poor. The kids from the huts at the border of the town went to school here as well. And their families were unfortunately often completely broke).  
“If you don’t know how to write a word or if you need help with expressing something, don’t be afraid to ask! These won’t be graded, don’t worry,” you added. 

Something brushed your hand in the grass, cutting off your train of thoughts. The chocolatier had shifted next to you. He noticed you noticing him brush your hand. “Oh, I- excuse me.” He chuckled apologetically. 

“No, it’s um-“ Your eyes caught his for a moment - they were, strangely, purple. You knew that, of course, but it still fazed you. Every damn time.  
“... Fine,” you finished awkwardly. 

“Oh. uh. Oh, well,” he said and broke eye contact nervously, looking back down at the landscape. You would have thought about how cute that was, but you were way too nervous yourself. 

Suddenly, Willy spoke up. “Why did you come here again?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, for one thing, I am addicted to your sweets.”

He smiled, but still refused to look at you. 

“And for another...” Your eyes traced his profile. “I like paying visits to friends.” 

“You mean Charlie?”

You frowned. “Charlie is my student. I’m his teacher. And while I did help him out of some trouble and I appreciate him, he isn’t, say, a friend of mine.” 

“Oh, I see! You’re friends with his... parents.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I am, but... You know what? Forget it.” 

Silence settled between the two of you again. The comfortable kind of silence. The kind that the two of you shared often. And you fell back into thoughts. 

You remembered the first time you’d met Willy. Almost a year ago, now, but it felt as though you’d known him for way longer than that. It had been few days into your first week at the new school and you’d finally gotten around to reading the essays. And Charlie Bucket’s essay stood out - to say the least. From poor living circumstances to a chocolate factory and a flying glass elevator. But what was even more outstanding than the story was Charlie’s talent. You had him stay after class.  
“The essay, Charlie, it was-“  
“Please don’t say it’s unrealistic, Miss/Sir. It all really happened.”  
“No, Charlie, what I was about to say was that your writing is really good. I read you want to become a chocolatier and you basically already are one, if what you’re writing is true. But I’m looking forward to all the essays I’ll get from you. Really, your expression and your point of view, I like it. Keep it up!”  
“Thank you, Miss/Sir.” 

After that, you’d gotten two more of his fantastic essays, now involving lots of fantasy elements. The boy really was creative and that writing style was just... You decided to talk to his parents about it and they decided to invite you to their home, or rather, to Willy Wonka’s factory.  
He had had this absentminded look on his face, lips slightly parted, corners of his mouth turned up in pleasant surprise and a glittering in his lilac eyes that you failed to decipher. He’d shook hand and greeted you with the words, “Welcome to my factory. Mine and Charlie Bucket’s. I’m Willy Wonka.” And he was still shaking your hand, shaking and shaking and staring at you awkwardly until you started laughing.  
“Hi,” you chuckled, “I’m Mr./Miss L/N. But please call me Y/N. Also... what if I’m lactose intolerant?”  
He let go of your hand, visibly caught off guard. Then, he said, “I make other sweets, too.”  
“Yeah, I know,” you chuckled and added lowly, “I’m not lactose intolerant, I was just trying to put you off your stride. May I?” You gestured at the small door.  
He nodded slowly, eyes narrowed confusedly. Then, he cleared his throat and said, “The door has to be small so-“  
“... so the smell of chocolate doesn’t escape, I know. I read about i-“ You stopped dead in your tracks when you were faced with the beautiful, sweet landscape.  
At last, Willy was the one who could be proud of putting you off your stride. And he was proud. Not that you noticed, being busy with taking everything in. 

That was the first time you’d met him. And somehow you were led to crossing his path again and again. Fate was funny that way. You’d meet him all the time. At a small shop where he went together with Charlie or at the school when he picked up Charlie with the elevator to excitedly tell him he’d had “a break through with the light absorbing licorice”. Then, he’d walked into the glass door of the elevator. 

You snorted amusedly.  
“What’s so funny?”, Willy asked to your right, finally looking you in the face. 

You shook your head and changed the subject. “Why do you never take your gloves off?” You noticed that all of the Oompa Loompas had gone now.

“Counter questions are rude.” He pouted.

“Oh, so we’re caring about social constructs suddenly, are we?” You raised your brows. 

He hesitated. “Fair point.” 

“So?” 

“I’m a chocolatier. I must not contaminate my chocolate with the filth of my hands,” he said, making a dismissive gesture as if the subject was both, obvious and of no importance. 

“Let me see.” You caught his left hand. He stiffened for a second, but let you take it. “I’m not wearing gloves either,” you argued, “and I’ve been in almost every part of the factory.” It was true and that was due to the simple fact that Willy Wonka liked having you around. He’d never said that, of course, but Charlie had once told you: “He never lets people walk around with him while he’s working, usually. He says it distracts him and makes him have less or worse ideas. But I think he likes you. Don’t know if he knows it though. That he likes you, I mean.”  
You smiled at the purple gloved hand between yours. “May I?”

Willy sighed. “If you insist. I’m telling you, spoiler alert, it’s just a hand.” 

You smiled. “It’s your hand.” And pulled off the leathery glove carefully. He swallowed when the bare, pale skin of his hand touched yours. You laid your right hand against his left, so the lower edges and the fingers were aligned. His were slightly longer.  
“Oh, no,” you mimed, “I think I’ve been contaminated by the filth of your hands!” 

He gave you a confused look, then he scoffed amusedly. The small vibration of the scoff caused his hand to move just slightly, causing his fingers to slide into the spaces between yours. The two of you basically interlocked hands. By accident. When he realised that, he quickly pulled his hand away.  
There was a pause.

“Willy?”, you asked seriously. 

“Yes?” His response came a little too quickly. 

“Would you... would you like to go out with my sometime?” The second the words had left your lips, you regretted them. He was looking at you as if you’d gone mad.

“Out?” His voice was high pinched. “With me?”

You avoided his eyes. “You know what, forget it, I just-“

“Out?”

“Never mind, I just thought- I should have known you’d say no.”

“No, I mean, yes, wait-“

“This doesn’t have to change anything between u-“

“No, it does-“

“No, really, just forget it-“

“Y/N!”, he cut you off, causing you to look up. You were met with a bewildered look - as far as you could read it.

“I’d like you. I mean, I like to. I mean, I’d like to. Go.” He tumbled over his own words. “I’d like to go.”

You stared at him, he stared back. Finally, he made a decision. He stood up.  
“In fact, let’s go now.” He grabbed his cane excitedly. 

“What?”

“I mean, we don’t have to actually go _out_ , do we?”

“What?”

“You don’t like grownups. I don’t like grownups. ‘Going out’ is very grownupy, isn’t it?” 

You were startled for a moment. He held out his hand. “Come. I want to show you something.” 

You frowned, but let him pull you up next to him. He hurried ahead with his cane and his coat and you had to quicken your pace to keep up with him.  
“Where are we going?” 

“Almost out,” he replied, grinning at you and you followed him. 

After turning around many corners, walking down many corridors and having loads of time to think about his bare hand and the glove you were still carrying, you arrived at a specifically low-rise corridor. There was a sign saying “Staff only”.

“Come on,” he said cheerily and crouched down to walk along the corridor. You did as he did and after a short, uncomfortable walk, you arrived at a door.  
You were dying to ask where he was taking you, but you knew he’d only respond with something indecipherable. So, you kept quiet. And soon, your wondering was put to an end, because Willy pushed open the little door and the two of you slipped through it. 

A forest- no, a **jungle** spread out in front of you, green and rich and above it, where the leaf canopy wasn’t blocking the view, you were able to see the night sky through a glass roof. The smell of dirt and rain filled your nose. The air was hot and damp in here, like in a greenhouse. High up in the trees hung little round houses made of wood. Big enough for two men of Willy’s size to kneel in. There was a noise. Like loud breathing. It was coming from up in the houses.  
You opened your mouth, but before you could speak, Willy hushed at you. “Shh. They’re all asleep.” He smiled a toothy, childish smile and shrugged off his jacket. He even left his hat and cane at the entrance and then proceeded to go further into the rain forest. As quickly and quietly as possible, you shrugged off your jacket as well, leaving you in tee and jeans and followed him through the plants. You had understood now: This was the home to all the Oompa Loompas working in the factory and the noise was their soft snoring. This place had to be huge! 

You were so busy marvelling at the green, you forgot to hurry.  
“Come!”, Willy said in a hushed voice, extending his hand. You fit yours into it and let him drag you through the undergrowth.  
Finally, you arrived at a small kind of clearing. On it stood a tree with his thick branches hanging low. Willy hopped onto a branch and you sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder. 

Above you, the stars were glittering and next to you, you could feel Willy’s warmth. But he seemed stiffened and nervous and pulled his hand from your grasp.  
“Are you okey?”

“What? Yes!”, he said quickly, smiling. But it wasn’t real. 

“Hey.” You waited, until he made eye contact with you. “What’s wrong?” 

“I...” He looked down at his hand. “I’m just, not... well, I am new to... I’m not used to being...”

“Touched?” 

There it was again. That surprised look. The parted lips, the sparkling eyes... Everything about him was saying, _”How do you always know what I’m thinking?”_

And you smiled. Because you didn’t. You rarely knew what he was thinking. But sometimes you did and it seemed to feel like an always to him.  
Slowly you placed your hand over his. “Is this okey?”  
He blinked, but didn’t break eye contact. He seemed to be in some kind of trance, lost in staring at your eyes. “Willy?”, you breathed. And he leant in, closing the space between the two of you. His lips met yours, a soft, but prickling sensation against your delicate skin. He stood still for a second, mouth pushed against mouth, he was trying to figure out what the butterflies in his stomach wanted from him.  
Then, he broke apart from you. It was over way too quickly. His eyes were suddenly not absent at all. “Yes?”, he responded, but you were lost for words. Finally, your hand found its way to his cheek and your thumb brushed over his lips, eyes following the movement as though you couldn’t quite believe these lips existed, let alone had been pushed flush against yours seconds ago. 

He cupped his hand over yours and leant into your touch, his expression ever so surprised. And suddenly, he kissed you again, more vividly now, his lips moving, his head tilting to get into a better position. You returned his enthusiasm, your hand travelling to the crook of his neck for stabilisation.  
Carefully, you opened your mouth just a bit, granting him access. His tongue slid against yours in a clumsy kiss.  
“I wish I could make sweets that taste like this,” he muttered when you separated.  
You laughed. “Technically you can, can’t you?”  
“No,” he whispered against your lips, “I could never share this with the rest of the world. I’m just too selfish for that.”  
“Well, I’ll always be there for samples.” You smiled against his soft mouth and hummed, sending vibrations through his body. He shivered and held onto your arms as if to keep them in place - close to him, touching him.  
“Samples?”  
“Mhm.” You grabbed his collar to pull him in again. “And who knows what else?”

The two of you stayed there, in the tree until the sky began turning lighter. And you told him about your 4 crazy sisters and he told you about his newest ideas and asked what you thought of them and if your students would like them. He even talked about his childhood, with a sad frown on his face and a lot of staring off into space in between. You’d smooth your hand over his back, then, calmingly. For hours, the two of you sat stargazing, leaning onto one another. You tried to name some constellations, but your knowledge was quite limited, so the two of you just started making up names. Sometime around 3am you had to have fallen asleep and when you woke up, the sky’s lower rims were beginning to turn a lighter blue. You were sitting with your back leant against the trunk of the tree and Willy’s head in your lap. He was sleeping, rolled up on the branch, one hand in your lap underneath his head, the other dangling from the tree into the grass.  
A smile crept onto your face when you remembered the night’s happenings. You ran your hand through his dark hair. It was messy (very unlike him), but soft to the touch nonetheless. 

Suddenly, something rustled above you. You raised your head. An Oompa Loompa was sitting in a branch a bit higher, grinning.  
“What?”, you asked him, a tad bit too harshly.

And he started, “Willy and Y/N sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“Shh! You’re gonna wake him up!” Annoyedly, you laid a finger against your lips. 

But the Oompa Loompa only grinned and suddenly more and more Oompa Loompas joined in:

“Willy and Y/N, Y/N and Willy, sitting in a tree,  
K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” 

Others started humming.  
One of them started improvising: “He took you stargazing, or so romantic, and he is so smart, but you know what’s gigantic? His-“  
Another Oompa Loompa finished: “Heart.”  
You sighed. Apparently, you just had to stand through this. 

“... sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” 

To your left someone started singing, “As his therapist I can tell you, his love really is very true. It was such a pain listening to. He didn’t realize he was pining for you.”

“Oh, Y/N and Willy sitting in a tree,  
K-I-S-S-I-“ 

Everyone of them stopped immediately when Willy started shifting and blinking.  
In a flash, they were all gone again, “sleeping”. You groaned hardly noticeably.  
Willy suddenly shot up.  
“What? Where? Who? I’m ready. I’m awake!”

“I see that,” you chuckled. “Don’t worry it’s just me.” And a hundred Oompa Loompas. “We must have fallen asleep.”

The two of you made your way back with slight tension and nervousness hanging in the air in between you.  
“Close enough to going out?”, Willy finally asked. The two of you had arrived back at the waterfall.

“No,” you answered, “Better.”  
He smiled at that. His real smile, the mischievous, charming one, the one that was accompanied by the slightly insane glittering in his eyes...  
You grinned. 

“I still don’t understand, though,” he suddenly said, smile wiped away. “Why?”

You shrugged as if you weren’t utterly in love with him. “You’re cute. One could even say... sweet.” You winked. 

“Ha. Ha,” he said dryly, but before he could add anything, you pressed a kiss to his lips. He forgot what he was about to say and wrapped his arms around you hesitantly instead. Yes, he was new to this. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because he tried and he wanted to try and because he was goofy and insane and way too kissable...  
“Let’s go almost out again sometime,” you said against his lips. He hummed his agreement.


End file.
